The Paladin

The Paladin

by

Ken Newman

The Paladin

Copyright © 2011 by Ken Newman.

Cover Copyright © 2011 by Sunbury Press. Cover design by Rocky Woodling
.

NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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SECOND SUNBURY PRESS EDITION

Printed in the United States of America

January 2012

ISBN
978-1-934597-44-6

Published by:

Sunbury Press

Camp Hill, PA

www.sunburypress.com

Camp Hill, Pennsylvania   USA

To my wife and best friend, Christian, and to my daughters, Courtney, Whitney, and Britney

I knew that it was only a matter of time before I caught up to the bad guys,
Giselle thought with a wry smile.
I should have this case wrapped up in record time.

Giselle Brand, better known as the Blue Fox, sat in a wooden folding-chair, her wrists securely handcuffed behind her.

I can't believe I came out of retirement on the French Riviera for this,
the Blue Fox sighed.
I swore that all the skulking around and getting shot at was behind me, but when the president goes and gets himself kidnapped, what is a girl to do?

The beautiful woman scanned the dingy, windowless room while her razor sharp mind ran through countless escape scenarios. Giselle smiled sweetly at her careless guards sat on oilcans, smoking, and telling dirty jokes in Russian. Forgotten, their AK-47s leaned against the wall. They assumed that because she was only a woman and there were three of them that there was nothing to worry about. But all that separated them and the hereafter was a thirty-five-year-old pair of Soviet made handcuffs.

The way I figure, I still got three hours before China and the US begin a real honest to God shooting war. I still don't know who is behind it or why they want a US-Sino War, but in three hours and forty-five minutes, it won't matter because millions will be dead.

I know President Russell is being held here in this complex, but the damn thing stretches for miles and time is running out.

Giselle looked up as the door sprang open and in walked Emil Freneau, the leader of the Red Scorpions, an international terrorist organization.

Well I guess that answers that question of who. Now as to why?

"Get out," he spat. The three guards grabbed their weapons and hurried from the room.  The tall, gaunt man strode up to Giselle, his hard features split into a bright smile of victory.

The Blue Fox chuckled when she beheld the leather patch covering what was left of his right eye.
I wonder if he is still pissed over that whole eye gouge thing.

"Surprised to see me? I knew that kidnapping the American president would bring you out of hiding, Blue Fox. Foolishly, you have stumbled into my trap. I am afraid that is the last mistake you will ever make."

"OK, you got me, Emil," she said. "Now, be a good boy and tell me where the president is. I have a date tonight and I would hate to miss the appetizer."

"Always with the humor," he said, shaking his head. "Blue Fox, I am the last
date
you will ever have. You will live long enough to see your president die and your precious United States burn. How does it feel, knowing that you have failed your country when it needed you the most?"

Emil's smile vanished with the sound of her handcuffs striking the cold, concrete floor…

***

"What do you think you are doing, Miss Smith?"

Like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Harriet Smith, better known as Harry, slammed the book shut with a dull thump.

"Principal Anders, you gave me a start," said Harry, trying to recover her composure.

"I can see that," the small woman said with a humorless smile. "Mind if I sit with you, Harriet?"

"Uh, no of course not," Harry said as she made room on the narrow wooden bench. Nonchalantly, Harry slipped the book into her bag.

The tiny, four-foot-five woman took a seat beside the six-foot tall redhead.

"Hand it over, Harriett."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't be cute, Harry. You know what I mean, now give me the book."

Reluctantly, Harry surrendered the prized paperback.

Norma Anders snatched the book from her hand, and after slipping on her glasses, scrutinized the lurid cover.
"The Return of the Blue Fox,"
said Principal Anders, "Written by Chad P. Teal. Miss Smith, as I recall, we already had this discussion about your choice of reading material on school property, now didn't we?"

"Principal Anders, you act as if this is some kind of pornography. It's just a harmless adventure story."

"Miss Smith, here at the Applewood Academy, we take pride in the fact that we offer the finest preschool education to be found in the state of Alabama. Parents pay a substantial tuition to insure that their child can have a leg up on the competition in our ever increasingly competitive world. Look around you. Tell me, what do you see?"

"I see a playground full of four- and five-year-old children."

Norma Anders wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "That is very shortsighted, Miss Smith. I, on the other hand, see future CEOs and captains of industry. I see future leaders who will change the world. That is why we hold our teachers to a higher standard."

"Over by the swing set, one captain of industry is playing with dog poop," said Harry.

"Be that as it may," said Norma, "if you must read during recess, read something that stimulates the brain and lifts the spirit. I suggest one of the classics."

"Isn't the definition of a classic a book that everyone wants to
have
read, but one nobody wants
to
read?"

Norma gave the young woman a scowl. "Do not get smart with me, Miss Smith. Let me make myself clear. I do not want you encouraging our students to read such mind-numbing tripe."

"I'm sitting by myself," protested Harry. "I'm not encouraging—"

"No more reading on school time, Harry, or should I be looking for a new teacher for next semester?"

"You win, Principal Anders," said Harry, looking down at her feet. "No more books on school property. May I have my book back?"

"I don't think so," said Anders. "You need to be taught a lesson, Miss Smith. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to visit the cafeteria and deposit this trash where it belongs; in a dumpster."

Harry fumed, but held her tongue, as the tiny but fierce woman stalked off with her book.
Why do I let that little monster treat me like this?
Harry asked herself.
Principal Nazi goes out of her way to humiliate me at every given opportunity and I let her! I am nothing more than a big ugly doormat around here! What would the Blue Fox do? She sure as hell wouldn't take this shit. Giselle would break her foot off in Norma's wrinkled old ass, or at least come up with some clever verbal barb. But, I need this job; so once again, I have to swallow my pride and self-respect to make ends meet. If only the world were a different place.

Harry took a deep breath. Once again, after work, she would have to take her frustration out in the gym.

Harry turned at the sound of laughter and saw teachers Linda Maya and Sandra Collins, sitting together on a bench several feet away, thoroughly enjoying Harry's reprimand. Like Norma, the two troublemakers were a constant thorn in her side. Instead of giving them a piece of her mind, Harry, swallowed her anger, smoothed her Applewood Academy blazer, and sighed.

Sure, Harry knew the adventures of the Blue Fox were corny and at times downright silly. However, she would gladly have given her right arm to have a life of romantic adventure and excitement like that of Giselle Brand. A life where she didn't have to take crap from anyone. A world where she was appreciated for what she was and not judged for what she looked like.

Harry pulled an apple from her satchel. She put the fruit in her mouth, but froze in mid-bite. To her astonishment, she found that she wasn't alone. Sitting on the bench with her was a small, chubby boy. His distinctive Asian features struck her as odd, since to her knowledge no minorities attended the school.

Harry chewed quickly and swallowed the juicy bite.

"Now where did you come from, my little man?" she asked with a smile. "Did you take sneaking lessons from the principal?"

The small boy stood upon the bench and bowed deeply to Harry.

"My name is Laurence Angel, but you may call me Larry."

"Nice to meet you, Larry," she said. "I am Miss Smith."

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Smith," he said with a smile as he sat close beside her.

"There you are!" said Misty Goings as she approached the pair. The petite blonde was the closest thing Harry had to a friend at the school.

"Looking for this little fellow, Misty?" asked Harry.

"I was about to pull my hair out," said Misty. "I turn my back for an instant and he disappears. I just knew the Nazi dwarf would have my butt for this."

"He is adorable," said Harry.

"Not right now, he isn't," said Misty, as she smoothed a stray lock of her blonde hair.